


Many the Miles

by Owlship



Category: Bumblebee (2018), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Robot/Human Relationships, Sexual Interfacing, Teledildonics, detachable penis, first attempt at robot lingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: Oh no, Bumblebee thinks to himself as he does stumble this time. He detached his apparatus while still in Charlie's garage; the pesky thing had been acting up, demanding attention he was loathe to give it considering the circumstances. It seems that he forgot to reattach it and now it's being touched by Charlie's small, delicate human hands.





	Many the Miles

**Author's Note:**

> Technically I can blame this one on a prompt but tbh it was my own idea first. Originally posted [on tumblr](http://v8roadworrier.tumblr.com/post/183305534521/detachable-robo-dick-you-knew-this-one-was)!
> 
> "Dubious Consent" tag refers to the fact that they don't talk about things first, but this is a fic so I can assure you that they're both Super Into It.

He first realizes what he's left behind when he feel something that is very definitely not his own mechanics brush against it. Bumblebee lurches but catches himself before he can truly stumble, turned attentively to Optimus Prime as if still listening while internally he's running a quick diagnostic on himself.

His interfacing spike is not where it should be, tucked away in his chassis between his lower limbs. He can feel warmth on it, a soft sensation like-

Oh no, Bumblebee thinks to himself as he does stumble this time. He detached his apparatus while still in Charlie's garage; the pesky thing had been acting up, demanding attention he was loathe to give it considering the circumstances. It seems that he forgot to reattach it and now it's being touched by Charlie's small, delicate human hands.

His radio lets out a burst of static at the thought.

"Bumblebee?" Optimus says, looming down on him.

Bee tries to think of something to say, but the hands on his spike are caressing him all over, following the contours of his shape, the little ridges and divots, the particularly sensitive spot just below the tip...

He transforms to his alt form abruptly and tosses out a garble of noise that he hopes conveys "I'm fine please don't follow me" and races away from the building he had been headed to. Optimus calls out after him, but doesn't pursue.

Charlie's hands grip him firmly from hundreds of miles away and then-

Bumblebee can't maintain his car shape, something that hasn't happened in a very long time. He tumbles back out into his normal form, quivering all over, exhaust systems ramping up to vent the excess heat he's beginning to generate.

Because Charlie _licks_ him, that must be what she's doing, a touch of something warm and soft and _wet_ against his most intimate metal.

Bumblebee groans out in a wave of radio static, hands clutching at the trunk of a tree to keep himself upright.

Does she know what she's doing? She must, he thinks, but he doesn't know how humans are built, how similar they are to Autobots in this particular area. He stumbles his way through the growing Autobot base until he finds his bunk, where he gratefully collapses.

It feels like she's fondling his spike, obviously, something he's never had anyone else ever do for him- but it feels deeper than just that, somehow. He thinks he can feel her reaching past just the metal and brushing against his very Spark, his very being.

He can't help the way his whole body starts vibrating, buzzing with tension; normally it would be centered in his spike but it's not attached and he can't contain his reactions.

The touch against him pulls away for a moment and he vents a gust of overheated air away from his internals, unsure if he's relieved or even more desperate.

Then her hands are back, cradling his spike firmly. Bumblebee crackles all over with static, his Spark pulsing deep inside him, optics sliding closed and his other senses getting stronger, reaching out desperately to try and find Charlie, useless as it is with the distance between them.

She licks him again- except no, this is too hot to be her tongue, too broad.

Bee's joints creak under the strain of holding himself still as the realization that he's touching what must be the human equivalent of an input port.

He can't even think about controlling his radio like this; the dial swings back and forth randomly, pulled by the pulsing rhythm his Spark is creating, resulting in a cacophony of noises.

From hundreds of miles away Charlie rubs his spike all around her port, grinding her soft body against his hard metal, getting him wet with her own lubrication. He can't feel enough detail, doesn't have any visuals to map to the experience.

The buzzing in his body ramps up, exhaust systems working overtime to stop him from overheating. It's useless; he can feel himself already on the edge of overloading, body straining towards completion.

Charlie keeps up a steady rhythm, rubbing herself without- well, if humans are built anything like Autobots, without actually taking him inside her port itself. He's grateful for it; he wants to see her if he's going to be inside her, wants her to be really there for him to see and feel and hear; he's desperate for more, a tease to have so much contact with nothing surrounding him, squeezing and stroking.

Bumblebee whines, a noise not drawn out of his missing vocal array or his radio but from deeper inside his internal components, a noise that feels pulled out of his very Spark itself.

It's over for him in a flash of light; he can almost _see_ Charlie, he thinks, not as the faint image of a hologram but really see her as she was the last time they were together, solid and real and full of life, only now her skin is red and damp with sweat, hair messy and sticking to her face, her bare neck and shoulders.

The rubbing she's doing doesn't let up even though he's overloading, body jerking in little spasms as pleasure rushes through his system.

Bumblebee groans out another burst of static, unsure how much more he can handle. Charlie seems to be speeding up her pace now, using short sharp movements, and then abruptly she ceases altogether.

He lets himself collapse completely, exhaust systems venting full-bore, every inch of his body ringing with residual pleasure and overstimulation.

He shudders as he feels her wrap her hands around his spike once more a few minutes later, but instead of fondling him again he can feel a sudden gush of water, shockingly cold. She's cleaning him up, he realizes, and shivers as he imagines how his spike must look, covered in her lubrication.

She wraps his apparatus in some soft fabric, and after that the sensations are muted enough that he can once again tune them out.

Not that Bumblebee is sure that he wants to. Did that really happen, or did he make it up? Charlie touching his spike like that, touching _herself_ like that- they hadn't exactly talked about it, if she felt the same attraction to him as he feels to her, if their similarities might sum out their differences.

He has to see her, he realizes as he focuses his optic inputs back on the shadowed ceiling above him. He's busy here, building the base, patrolling for Decepticons, keeping their people safe- but he _has_ to see Charlie again, and soon.

The others will just have to understand, he decides resolutely. As soon as he can get up and move again, he'll tell Optimus and the others that he's taking a leave of absence.

He's just gonna. Lie here for another few minutes first.


End file.
